"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. In this state, he contrived to get the poor black's hand into his mouth, and nearly bit off one of his fingers before the sufferer could be rescued. She obeyed, extending her arm. Papa doesn't even care, but he just goes along with whatever my Mom says. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. Her pulses began to race.
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